


Subject to Change

by zarabithia



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Community: rarewomen, F/M, POV Female Character, references to breathplay, references to pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-07
Updated: 2012-05-07
Packaged: 2017-11-05 00:09:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha liked having a plan, and her lunch dates were not an exception to that. Everything that happened between those lunch dates, on the other hand, was subject to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Subject to Change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [summerstorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerstorm/gifts).



Natasha liked having a plan, and her lunch dates were not an exception to that. On Mondays, when she was able, she had lunch with Clint. It seemed appropriate, sharing the start of the week with a man who had helped her start a new life. 

It was a relief, watching Clint get back to eating with his usual zealousness. After all that had transpired, it was a sign that Loki hadn't left any long term effects, and if Natasha was honest with herself, she'd worried about that long after Loki had been defeated.

Physical scars healed, some pathetically easily. Mental scars sometimes never did. She wouldn't have been as good of a spy as she was, if she hadn't learned that long ago. 

But she didn't overlook the fact that, for this particular lunch date, he'd slipped back into eating the fried food comforts that reminded him of home. On the road to healing, then, but not entirely there.

Natasha supposed that, in the face of alien invasions and alien mind control, maybe that was good enough.

"It's just fried chicken, Nat," Clint said scornfully around a mouthful of the food in question. "It's not even carnival food. So you can stop giving me that look." 

"What look might that be?" Natasha asked as she took a bite of her sub. Also chicken and just the same amount of calories to sustain her for the rest of the afternoon, but not so heavy that she'd feel like a lead balloon when she hit the mat with the new recruits after the lunch date was over.

"You know good and damn well," Clint scoffed. He dipped a French fry into a packet of mustard in the same disgusting way that he had on their first lunch date, years ago. 

"I know that there used to be a time that I could give you any look I pleased," Natasha answered breezily, because falling back into those old patterns was so very easy. It was _familiar._

Perhaps they could both do with some familiarity. 

"You can still look at me any way you please, Tasha." Master assassin that he might be, Clint's smile held a hint too much boyishness to fully achieve the wolfish look he was aiming for. 

Natasha thought about telling him that he'd missed his target. But all recent events considered, that seemed rather cruel. 

"Good to know I still have the privilege," Natasha answered. "But what if the look I want to give you isn't entirely appropriate for the cafeteria?" 

"Like that'd ever stop you." Clint laughed and drizzled his last package of mayonnaise on top of his chicken. "The fact that you have an obvious crush on _someone yet to be determined_ just might, though."

"Good luck determining that," Natasha scoffed. "I'm entirely too old for a crush." 

~~

Natasha _was_ entirely too old for crushes. 

But she did enjoy watching Steve work, and it was a skill set that she was treated to far more often than she had been before the invasion. Because before the invasion, he'd stayed in his S.H.I.E.L.D. funded apartment and pounded away at the punching bags, growing angrier and angrier that they wouldn't punch him back.

It was almost hard to believe that, with the amount of enthusiasm he put into a good sparring match. So much so that it was easy not to be resentful when he grinned at her after their match without so much as a slight increase in breathing rate.

"Good match," Steve said, as she struggled to catch her breath and wipe the sweat off her face. Because it was never good to walk past the new recruits looking like a mess. 

"Yeah, it was fun. Have to do it again some time," she said briskly. 

He tilted his head at her and looked as though he couldn't quite figure out if she was sincere, and that was when Natasha chose to leave the training room. 

Leave them guessing. That was the nature of her game, wasn't it? 

~~

Nobody ever had to guess at _anything_ when it came to Tony Stark. He happily told people pretty much everything they wanted to know - and many things Natasha didn't want to know - right up front. 

If Natasha believed in saints, she'd think Pepper Potts was one, for dealing with him. Something beyond that, perhaps, for loving him. 

But love him Pepper did, and so from time to time, Tony intruded into Natasha's standing Tuesday lunch dates with Pepper. 

"See, I actually thought this would be more difficult. I thought you'd have the standard hate-hate thing going on, what with the whole lying to your face thing that _Natalie_ here did," Tony said to Pepper as the three of them sat cross-legged over plates of ridiculously overpriced sushi.

There was a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant three blocks from Natasha's apartment that served sushi at a quarter of this price that tasted five times better. 

But Stark was hardly lacking money to waste; if he wanted to do so, Natasha saw no reason to deny him the honor.

"Tasha and I made up a long time ago," Pepper said with a dismissive hand wave. 

"Tasha?" Tony said with amusement. "What is this familiarity that I was previously unaware of? I'm not sure I approve of all of your secretive exploits with S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, Pep." 

"S.H.I.E.L.D. approves," Natasha answered simply. 

Tony shot her a look of annoyance, while Pepper merely laughed. 

"Well, she's already spoken for, just remember that," Tony said firmly, and while Pepper didn't seem to mind his presumptuousness, Natasha did. 

"Trust me, I know that _Virginia _is taken," Natasha answered. "Which is too bad, because otherwise, there are a number of ways I'd much rather be spending my precious lunch dates with her."__

Tony opened his mouth, and for one glorious moment, nothing came out of it. He turned to Pepper, and looked like he was going to regain the ability to speak, but Pepper shook her head, cutting him off. 

"No, Tony." It wasn't outraged or offended. Just a simple no. 

Which was probably just as well. If the Banner rumors were true, there probably wasn't room in their bed for Natasha anyway.

~~

"Have you ever been to Japan?" Steve's arms, when they were wrapped around her throat, felt as smooth and tight as the metal Tony took his name from, but Natasha's voice was steady as she asked the question. 

"No," Steve answered as Natasha's heel made contact with his foot. His arm tightened a fraction, and for a moment, Natasha was reminded of the way Clint had arched with such delight when she'd tightened her scarves around his neck. 

"Seems strange, doesn't it? That they wouldn't - ah - send _Captain America_ to Japan during World War II?" 

"Am I hurting you?" The arm slacked immediately, and Natasha cursed irritably in Russian. 

" _Do not stop._ "

"Yes, ma'am." The arm tightened again, no more or less tightly than it had been before, and Steve continued his answer. "My job was mostly to take out Hydra. If there were any additional Nazis in the way, I'd take care of them, too. But Hydra was my mission, and Hydra was based in Europe." 

Natasha gave a grunt in reply before aiming two fingers directly for his trachea. His hands loosen briefly enough that Natasha was able to gain leverage and she used it to curl under and propel them both forward.

It was the first time she'd succeeded in actually rolling Captain America, but she was rather determined that it wouldn't be the last. 

He looked up at her, from his spot on the floor, with a startled grin. "On that note, shall we call it a day and grab something to eat?" 

"Sorry, Captain Rogers. I leave for a S.H.I.E.L.D. mission in twenty minutes. Time to shower and change. I'll eat on the plane." 

"Some other time then?" 

"When we both _have_ time." 

~~

Natasha was a busy woman, and her Wednesdays typically were spent on a mission. But sometimes they were not, and those few, fortunate days, Natasha reserved for Maria. 

It was a good way to get caught up on general S.H.I.E.L.D. events. Maria didn't gossip in the boring, idle way that had allowed Natasha to steal so many secrets from her enemies. But Maria _did_ like to express her irritation, often and with great enthusiasm.

Considering the organization they were working for and the people involved, Natasha really couldn't blame her. That didn't mean that Natasha didn't take a certain amount of enjoyment in riling her up, because Natasha did. 

"I spend at least three hours of my day dealing with the press now. I didn't join a spy organization to talk to brain-dead reporters. Each time Sharon comes back from a mission, she asks how my friends at the Daily Bugle are," Maria informed her over soup and bread sticks. "If I have to give one more carefully controlled comment about what I think about the Hulk, or Spider-Man, who isn't even ours - " 

"You should delegate more."

"I delegate all the time. Morse, Lewis and Bishop are doing half the assignments that are meant for me -" 

"Only half? Have your mandated S.H.I.E.L.D. psychological exams picked up on your control issues?" 

"Natasha Romanoff is going to talk to me about control issues?" Maria rolled her wine in her glass and laughed. "That's the best joke I've heard all week."

"It's probably the only joke you've heard all week," Natasha rejoined. "Are you suggesting I have control issues, Hill?" 

"Yes, I am. Which should make all those sweaty sparring sessions with Forties Poster Boy interesting, if you ever let him follow you out of the training room."

"Interesting in what way?" It wasn't as though Steve minded her bossiness. He hadn't, despite what she'd initially believed would probably be the case, treated her any differently than the rest of their teammates. 

Maria rolled her eyes. "Six months ago, he was in 1945 as far as he knows. No way in hell that he lets a woman 'take charge' in the bedroom." 

~~

It took Natasha another two months to be able to roll him again. To be fair, mostly because she spent three weeks out of that two months chasing down a group of assassins hiding in Iceland. 

"Really, what kind of international group of assassins sets up headquarters in Iceland?" Natasha asked the question as she pinned him and brought her knees deep into his chest. 

He gave a momentary gasp of breath, but then his eyes blinked up at her, bright, blue and twinkling. "So you have me pinned. What do you plan to do with me now, Agent Romanova?" 

She gave a small smile at the correct use of her last name. Most of her American colleagues accepted the Americanized form of her name, or tried to use the Russian form and left off the vowel at the end. 

It was nice, having a smart sparring partner, as well as a strong one.

"Mostly, I'm waiting for you to catch your breath and throw me off of you," Natasha answered. Because super soldier serum was impressive for a reason. 

"I could. But maybe I want you to tell me what you'd do if I couldn't escape," he answered easily.

"Do you like surprises?" 

"Only the good ones." 

Natasha took that as her cue, leaning forward and kissing him firmly, keeping her hands firmly on his wrists. By the way that his mouth opened to her as she pressed her tongue against his lips, Natasha decided that this one must have counted as a "good" surprise. 

~~

Thursdays were entirely different than they used to be, because her Thursday lunch dates used to belong to Phil Coulson. By Natasha's count, it had been about eight months since she'd last stepped foot in that tiny deli. 

But these days, Natasha spent her available Thursdays with Darcy Lewis. Darcy was as opposite from Coulson as a person could be and still be a part of the same organization. But Darcy's credentials were good - dealing with an alien threat before graduating college was a definite plus - and her letters of recommendation included a videotaped testimony from Thor, listing her "many courageous attributes." 

"So basically, I'm thinking a good taser to Jameson," Darcy said cheerfully over burgers and fries that were the traditional Thursday fair. "And that thought sounds better each time I have to give him a statement on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D." 

"That sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen," Natasha answered. 

"But he _deserves_ it." 

"I won't disagree. But the rest of us don't deserve to be on the receiving end of the ammunition you'll be giving him," Natasha replied. "You're a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent now. Think of an alternative to tasering boisterous annoyances into unconsciousness."

"I think we'll get sued if I shoot him, too," Darcy answered flippantly.

"Which makes it another inappropriate alternative, yes." 

"In that case, we should look into recruiting Spider-Man. Just to piss him off," Darcy said, glancing at her phone. In fairness, Darcy typically spent at least fourteen percent of their lunches glancing at her phone. 

"Now you're talking like a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent." 

"Oh, Facebook. Still a crack den full of people who don't understand the concept of TMI." 

"Which begs the question of why you enjoy it so much," Natasha questioned reasonably, taking a sip of her water. 

Darcy laughed and reached for her soda. "Because living vicariously through other people's sex lives is about all S.H.I.E.L.D. leaves me time for these days?" 

"Hmm. There is that." 

~~

As much as Natasha would like to fuck Steve into the training mat, there were cameras everywhere in any room remotely associated with S.H.I.E.L.D. 

So instead, she invited him home. 

There was never going to be any dinner or much of a build-up, because that wasn't why she brought him home. For a moment, after she had shed his leather jacket and peeled away the tight blue shirt beneath, Steve hesitated and she wondered if he was going to make a fuss about the directness of what she wanted. 

"There are those among our teammates who think you are saving yourself for marriage," Natasha informed him, letting her fingers rest easily on his bare chest while she spoke. 

"What?" 

"Committed to a life of celibacy until you have a ring on your finger," Natasha clarified. 

"Because of the period I come from?" At her nod, Steve rolled his eyes. "I hate to be ruin everyone's mocking Cap party, but even in 1945, people had sex outside of wedlock. Quite often, actually." 

"Especially if they were soldiers?" Natasha guessed. 

"Especially then. If the Avengers ever met the Howling Commandos, I'm sure the Commandos could have tales that would make _Stark_ blush."

"I'm glad you aren't saving yourself, because I have no intention of offering you a ring," Natasha replied, redirecting the conversation back to where it needed to be. "But there's obviously an issue here. Something's making you hesitate. What is it?" 

He bowed his head and actually looked embarrassed. "I'm not - I'm not _saving myself_ or waiting until I get married to have sex. But I don't exactly have a whole lot of experience."

"The best way to change that is to get some practice sessions in, don't you think?" 

His cheeks filled with warmth, but he grinned at her. "I do. I just don't want you to ... I don't want you to be disappointed." 

It was a sweet sentiment. Not really necessary, but very sweet. She lifted a hand and tugged his head closer to hers. "Can you follow orders, soldier?" 

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then you do that, and I won't be disappointed." 

~~

Fridays belonged to S.H.I.E.L.D. 

Actually, every day belonged to S.H.I.E.L.D., so more specifically, her Friday lunch dates belonged to S.H.I.E.L.D. Whether they were new recruits that Fury wanted her to scare some sense into, department heads she needed to touch base with, or simply another agent, Natasha typically spent her Friday lunch hour with someone or something connected to S.H.I.E.L.D. 

This Friday was a pleasant surprise. Even if they are eating pancakes at what should be a lunch time hour.

"I have to admit, it's nice visiting Midgard without Volstagg," Lady Sif informed her between bites. 

"I imagine the meals are a little easier to sit through," Natasha offered. 

"They are less needlessly lengthy. Less than an hour for eating a meal? Dear Volstagg would be scandalized." Lady Sif's laughter was plentiful, but not cruel-spirited, and it wasn't mere politeness that made Natasha smile at her meal companion.

"Though if it's long enough for Thor and Dr. Foster to take care of their lunch time activities, it's long enough to eat," Lady Sif said thoughtfully, with no hint that she was angry that her fellow Asgardian had snuck off for a little noontime sex.

"Forty-five minutes seems awfully short for that, too," Natasha scoffed lightly. "Thor keeps that up, and people will start making terrible jokes about his hammer. More than they already do." 

Lady Sif laughed again. "Oh, I can see why Thor likes the people of Midgard so much. Tell me about these jokes of your realm, and I will compare them to the ones in ours." 

~~

Natasha expected Steve's patience. Snap as he might at Stark, with everyone else, there was a considerable amount of patience and kindness. So she expected both of those things when she began to fantasize about him, but she never quite realized what they would translate to in the bedroom. 

Because there had been many faces, of many genders, that Natasha had guided between her legs, and many had been very skilled. Most had considerably more experience than the man currently sharing her bed. 

But Steve's patience and kindness melded with his ability to listen to every order she gave, and his tongue tirelessly pressed against her, eager to find new reasons to make her fingers dig into his shoulders. 

And later, after her entire body had the pleasantly lingering ache that followed her climax, she bid him to sit next to her on the bed and she kissed his still moist lips. 

"You once thought I would be disappointed," she remembered. "How completely ridiculous that thought was." 

"I was much more of a virgin then, in my defense," he answered. 

"But we've since throughly deflowered you." Natasha tried not to sound as smug about it as she felt, because it wasn't a prize to be won. But it had been a very enjoyable time, nonetheless, and she was sure that enthusiasm seeped into her voice. 

"A few different ways," Steve agreed. 

But there were still ways left to try, and since her super soldier was still in need of relief, Natasha believed there was no time like the present. 

"Bend over for me," she commanded.

~~

Saturdays were often business days. Often Avengers days and quite frequently S.H.I.E.L.D. days. But on the days that they were none of those things, Natasha had lunch with Moira. 

She wasn't, strictly speaking, supposed to know much about Moira's life, beyond the part where she was a retired S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

But among two old spies, secrets were not always kept as tightly as S.H.I.E.L.D. or the CIA would have preferred. So their lunches were always on the balcony of Natasha's apartment. 

Moira preferred Chinese take-out.

"It reminds me of sitting in the car with my poor old partner, before I gratefully got away from the Agency," she told Natasha, not for the first time. 

"If your days were so bad with them, why do you want to be reminded of them?" 

"Not all memories of bad times are bad ones," Moira said, as though it were that simple. 

"I will have to take your word on that," Natasha answered.

"Or we could politely change the subject and you could tell me about your team." 

"You want me to divulge classified information?" Natasha shook her head in mock sadness. 

"Hm. I was keeping classified information at S.H.I.E.L.D. before most of your teammates were born," Moira retorted, and Natasha bit back a laugh. 

"One of my teammates is several thousand years old. The other is old enough to be your father," Natasha reminded her gently. 

"Well, certainly several years before Barton stopped cleaning up _elephant dirt_ ," Moira scoffed. 

That battle won, Natasha did laugh. "They're a good team. We still get on each other's nerves from time to time, but working together comes easier now than it did in the beginning. I never imagined being part of something like this when I first joined S.H.I.E.L.D. " 

"I didn't imagine it for you, either," Moira confessed. "But I _did_ always know that sending Barton after you was a good idea."

~~

Being locked in a prison wasn't anything new, nor was being locked in one several thousand miles away from a friendly shore. It also wasn't the first time that someone had tried to use the fact that she was a woman against her in an interrogation. But they'd never used it quite like this before. 

"Captain America is a legend and legends do not spill secrets. Hurt him, and the woman will break."

The man who fought so hard in battle at her side and who never treated her more softly than the other members of her team was hard to hurt. But their would-be supervillains had creativity to make up for the smarts they didn't have.

She watched the bruises form and the look on his face twist more than once as they hit a particularly sensitive spot. Their captors were so focused on attempting to cause him pain that they did not look after her as much as they should have. 

It was a deadly mistake for them, and one that allowed Captain America and Black Widow to escape. 

"They tell me you carried me out," Steve said to her, two weeks later, still resting in a S.H.I.E.L.D. medical bay. "Stark sounded quite impressed by it, so it's too bad that I don't remember much of it." 

"Maybe it's good that you don't," Natasha answered crisply. 

"Why on earth not?" Steve asked, and he gave her a lopsided grin as he added, "Not remembering doesn't make the bones hurt any less." 

"It's good that you don't remember because I had to do some ... pretty harsh things to get you out of there," Natasha answered slowly. "They aren't things I regret, and I didn't do them because I'm fucking you. I'd do the same if any of my teammates were in jeopardy." 

"Mm. And you think, if I could remember, I'd think less of you?" 

"We call you the boyscout for a reason," Natasha stated, in lieu of a real answer. 

"Because you think I spent all of World War II learning how to tie knots?" Steve scoffed, and it was not at all an appropriate time to enjoy the rare instance of sarcasm Steve let slip through, but Natasha did anyway. "Well, I didn't. I killed an awful lot of people. I like to think that I saved more than I killed, but I don't - hell, my ledger's plenty full, too." 

Natasha raised an eyebrow and Steve gave her a slight shrug with the side that wasn't sore. "We all saw the surveillance footage of you and Loki." 

"Why didn't you mention it until now?" Natasha demanded. 

"Because it's your issue to deal with and I can't make it magically go away, even though I'd like to?" Steve answered. "The best I can do is say that I am sincerely glad that you were there to save my ass." 

"Well, it's a good start," Natasha assured him.

~~

Sundays were typically reserved for herself. It was the end of the week, and it allowed her to just enjoy some down time, when she wasn't saving her teammates or the world. 

"So you pick the place and I'll pay the bill?" Steve suggested as he toweled his hair dry, two weeks after he'd been released from medical supervision. 

"You pick the place and we split the bill," Natasha corrected as she buttoned up her blouse.

"Fair enough," Steve answered easily.

There were not supposed to be any lunch dates on Sundays. She'd planned it that way on purpose.

But, as had often been the case since she'd joined the Avengers, her plans had changed.


End file.
